Rest in Serenity
by Aoife129
Summary: Part 3 of the Ray of Light Trilogy . . . finally.


Ray of Light Pt. 3: Rest in Serenity

-Finally, here it is! So sorry to keep you guys waiting forever. I hope it makes sense, and that it provides you with enough closure to the story. Love, Aoife-

Warning: Contains brief strong language

**Could Thread a Needle with This Bird**

"Good," Wash praised. "You're a natural, Little One." He kissed the top of Saoirse's head as she sat in his pilot's chair guiding the Serenity through a series of twists and turns in a canyon.

"Ugh. When're ya gonna shave that thing off yer face?" Her full concentration didn't move from the obstacle course before her, but she could feel the bristles of his moustache through her hair.

"When it stops keeps my face warm."

"Well, I hope it stops soon. I'm startin' ta have nightmares." He shook his head at her behind her back. "Besides, I'm pretty sure if ya did, ya'd have a shot at Zoë."

"What?" he replied in disbelief.

"I may not be the smartest person in the 'Verse, but she's got a thing fer ya."

"Well, she sure has a funny way of showing it."

"Et's jest who she is," Saoirse explained. "She's scared 'a gettin' close ta anyone 'cause she can't handle losin' 'em, so she pushes 'em away. Only reason she let Da in is 'cause he proved he's not goin' anywhere."

He raised an eyebrow at her, still out of her line of sight. He couldn't help conteplating what she was saying. "Alright, set us down so we can go eat."

"Aye." Saoirse tensed her arms and pulled in toward herself, lifting the nose of the Serenity slightly. The ship tilted up and emerged from the canyon. Saoirse levelled the ship out, and then hit the reverse thrusters and slowly set the ship down on her landing gear. A sigh of relief escaped Saoirse's lungs as she unbuckled the seatbelt and pushed the chair back away from the console.

"You _had_ to have known how to fly something before you got behind that wheel," Wash insisted.

"Just skiffs," she replied. "Nothin' big like this."

"Keep this up, I may just have to keep you around," he joked. "Give me a chance to rest every once in a while." He offered her a hand, which she took, and helped pull her to her feet. The arm landed around her shoulders, and the two stepped off toward the door. In the hallway, they met Malcolm on his way to the bridge.

"Chow's ready if you two want to eat."

"Just on our way," Wash answered. The trio headed toward the kitchen and went single file down the stairs. The rest of the group was already assembled and filling their plates. "Wow, you can see how much we're loved." The tone in Wash's voice didn't sound especially enthusiastic as he pulled out a chair next to Zoë.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked sharply.

"I was sitting down to eat?" He spaced out his words in confusion.

"Not next to me you're not."

Wash gave her a slightly hurt look and proceeded to sit down on the other side of the table next to Jayne, who was bent over his food, shoveling it into his face as though he hadn't eaten in weeks. "Looks like I'm not the only one scared 'a that lip ferret," Saoirse giggled, catching Zoë's gaze across the table. Wash rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh before grabbing a plate and loading it with protein.

"So who was doin' the flyin' just then?" Mal asked, knowing exactly who it had been.

"Why?" Saoirse flinched, nervous that she'd done a poor job. "Was I not steady enough? Did I turn too sharp?"

Mal couldn't help but laugh. Just like Kaylee, all he had to do was find the right topic, and she was putty in his hands. "You were fine, A Chuisle." Saoirse stopped in mid bite. It was the first time he'd used a specific term of endearment besides just the usual translation of "daughter." Around the others, Mal slipped into Chinese, just like the rest of the 'Verse. But being around Saoirse and her accent, he'd begun to drag up what little of the old launguage he remembered from the ranch. In the tradition of their family, he'd helped to make sure it had been Saoirse's first set of words. And she was honored that he would now add "My Heartbeat" to the list of names he called her. The young girl smiled and continued eating; the rest of the crew hadn't even noticed.

From across the table Kaylee mused aloud, "This place is so drab. I think it needs a little color." Jayne grunted, and Saoirse laughed again, shaking her head at him.

**Damage My Calm**

Saoirse gripped the sheets tightly as her eyes popped open. Her breath was shallow and labored, and her pulse raced. She swallowed hard and forced herself to take a deep breath. Rolling onto her side, she let her eyes adjust to the darkness. She slid out of the bunk, her bare feet hitting the cool floor silently. On the bed above hers, Kaylee was still breathing heavily; Saoirse hadn't woken her. She grabbed her blanket, padded over to the ladder and quietly ascended to the hallway. The floor outside was even colder than the girls' room. A shiver ran up her spine, and she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, pulling it as tightly as she could. She stopped, looking back and forth between the door to Jayne's room and Mal's. She still wasn't sure this was a good idea, but she really didn't want to be alone right now, and she was sure that the bubbly Kaylee was fun to spend time with but would do little to help her feel better when it came to night terrors. Finally, she took three steps to the left and pushed open the door to her father's room. She awkwardly climbed down, trying not to fall while still holding onto the edges of her blanket.

Her hands shook as she reached out to touch Mal's arm. Her fingers had barely grazed his skin when his eyes popped open, and his hand grabbed her wrist. She gasped, dropped her blanket and pulled backward, nearly wrenching her arm out of its socket. After a second, both had repressed their reflexes. Mal sat up and gently pulled Saoirse into an embrace. "Shh. I'm sorry, A Chuisle." Saoirse trembled, her muscles hardwired into fleeing when she got scared. "I didn't realize it was you." She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves, and leaned her head against his shoulder. She continued to tremble for a minute, finally wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face into his neck. He felt solid, real. She'd almost forgotten what it was like to be held. "What's the matter, Little One?"

"I had a nightmare, and I . . . I just didn't want ta be alone."

"Wasn't that the point 'a puttin' ya in there with Kaylee?"

"I love Kaylee, but the last thing I need right now is her babblin' m' ear off."

"Can't blame ya there," he chuckled. He reached up a hand and smoothed her hair, his mother's straw-blond hair. How she'd ever gotten it between Béibhinn's jet black head and his own brown mop, he'd never know, but he was glad she did. If he could never see his mother again, it was at least nice to have a reminder of her. "Here," he started as he rose to his feet. From one of the shelves, he pulled down a bamboo mat and laid it out on the floor next to his bed. "You can stay here tonight." He grabbed the pillow from his bed and dropped it down on the mat. "Or any other night you have bad dreams."

He kissed the top of her head, and she whispered, "Go ramh math agat, Athair."

"Codladh samh, Iníon." She lowered herself to the mat and laid her head on the pillow. The blanket wrapped around her tightly, Saoirse drifted easily back to sleep. Subconsciously, her brain finally calmed, knowing she would be safe. She dreamt of a place she'd only ever seen a few times: the marketplace of Persephone. Dust covered the toes of her brown boots as she made her way through the crowds. People were everywhere, but no one touched her. They all seemed to part before her as though she had some sort of disease they were afraid of catching. No one looked at her. She felt completely and utterly alone . . . again. In the distance she saw a single figure that started moving toward her. She couldn't make out his face. He had brown hair, and he was wearing brown pants with suspenders. And he was carrying something. She blinked and he was standing right in front of her, the environment they'd just been standing in blurred to nothingness.

"'Ello, Love," he drawled as he spun a slightly worn bowler hat in his right hand.

"Brian?" He gave her a crooked smile in response and lifted the hat to his head.

"I nevah let it out 'a my sight, y'know?" He pulled it down tightly onto his head and flicked the brim for effect.

"A Thiarna, how long's it been?" she exclaimed.

"Too long, m' Love." His brown eyes looked down at her with an intense longing she could feel right through to her core. "Ya can't stay w' them y'know. It's too dangerous."

"But he's my father," she insisted.

"So it's not faiah ta him, then. Riskin' his life ta keep you on the run. Y'know de Alliance won't stop until yo'ah dead."

"I can't change that. But stayin' on the move with 'em is my best hope 'a keepin' one step ahead."

"But is it roight ta put oll 'a dem in dangah just ta save y'self? Oi can do ya one bett'ah; oi can make it so ya don' 'afta run anymoah. You know what you 'afta do, Love. Come find me on Persephone when yo'ah ready. Oi'll be waitin' for ya."

"Yer still there? Even after all this time?"

"Oi'm still waitin' fer _you_." He laid a hand on her arm, tilted his head, and leaned down to kiss her.

Saoirse's eyes popped open. It was a weird dream, but by no means as bad as the nightmare she'd had earlier that night. She rolled over onto her other side and looked up at Mal, passed out on his bed. His even, heavy breaths hissed gently through his nose. She blinked and yawned, shaking her head slightly before closing her eyes again. As much as she wanted to forget about it, the apparition in her dream had been right. It wasn't fair to the crew that they had to watch their own backs and hers. But she was so tired of being alone.

**It's Good, It Tastes Like . . . It's Good**

Kaylee hummed softly as she pulled a brush of green paint in a wavy line down the trim of the kitchen. The walls, recently painted yellow, radiated warmth, and now the girls were simply giving them some life as well. She looked up at her companion sitting on a ladder, painting vine leaves. "This is gonna be so much nicer when we're done!" she gushed.

"It 'as a good idea ya had," Saoirse agreed. Her brush smoothly spread a layer of dark green over the yellow creating the edge of a leaf. She finished the other side of it and began filling it in. It felt good to be doing something creative. It had been so long since she'd been able to forget the worries of running from place to place and hiding. She bit her bottom lip, casting her eyes around at the leaves they'd already painted, and gradually, her mouth curled into a smile. She nodded satisfaction at their handiwork and continued down the line.

"Lookin' good, girls," Wash exclaimed as he entered the room. "Really adds a homey kind of touch." He moved to the row of cabinets and opened one, reaching inside to grab a foil-wrapped bar. Peeling back the silver casing, he took a bite and made a face. "Mmm . . . Protein."

"At least it's food," Saoirse countered. When she'd first looked through the cupboards of the Serenity, she'd promised herself she wouldn't be disappointed with the fare. It was all bland, plain essentials, but there was plenty to go around. It was more food than she'd seen in her entire life. When you lived your life on the run, you ate when there was time and food.

"Well," Wash countered, "I think calling it _food_ is a bit optimistic, but sure . . ." He took another bite and sat down at one of the mismatched chairs around the table in the center of the room.

"Wash, are we on schedule?" Mal blew into the room from the hallway.

Through a mouthful of food he managed, "Dahng ran, Cap'n." Saoirse stopped what she was doing and furrowed her brow at the men.

"Cad é seo?" she posed to her father. He didn't answer aloud, but simply shook his head meaning she shouldn't worry about it. Mal allowed his eyes to drift to Kaylee, concentrating hard on her painting. Her tongue peeked out from the left side of her mouth and her eyes were narrowed on the spot she was transferring green to, forming deep wrinkles in her forehead. Saoirse followed his eyes, and chuckled softly to herself. Even if this ship hadn't been her father's, coming on board had been worth it to make a friend like Kaylee. Mal's eyes caught his daughter's again, and she held out her arms a little, indicating that she needed help down from her perch. He moved over to her and set a hand on either side of her waist, lifting her to the floor. She took her bowl of paint and paintbrush over to the sink and set them inside. She would wait to wash them until they landed; she didn't want to waste what little water they might have left until they refilled on Persephone. _Persephone_ . . . Her mind drifted to the dream she'd had nearly four months ago. They'd had another brief run-in since then, and the Alliance had begun posting warrants for her arrest on the Cortex again. It made her feel even more guilty any time the crew had to pull a job because it made them that much more of a target. For a fleeting second she entertained the idea of going to look for Brian when they landed, but she let it pass. After all, it was just a dream; she had no way of knowing if he could actually hide her or not. Being on Serenity, she knew it was possible, if not the best way of doing things.

"Where'd ya go, Little One?" Jayne brought her back to the present.

"Oh, nowhere," she replied, shaking it off. "I's thinkin' about how nice it'd be ta actually have real plants again."

"Huh?" She gestured to the walls that she and Kaylee had just decorated. "Oh." He apparently hadn't noticed, but it didn't surprise her. Jayne was rarely concerned with anything in the kitchen besides what food was available. Proving her point, he immediately set to rummaging through the cupboards. Mal narrowed his eyes at his daughter.

"You feelin' okay, Iníon?"

"Nah," she admitted with a slight grimace. "I think I'm gonna go lie down fer a bit." Mal nodded and kissed the top of her head.

"Door should be open." She nodded back to him and headed out into the hall toward her father's cabin. Lately she'd been spending more time sleeping on his floor than in her own bed. The nightmares had been getting increasingly frequent as well as increasingly graphic. One night she was sure her heart would have stopped in her sleep if she hadn't woken. She pushed open the door and headed down the ladder. As her feet hit the floor, she sucked in a deep breath through her nose. She wasn't sure exactly how to describe it, but she loved the way her father's room smelled, the way _he_ smelled. If she could remember more of what the Ray of Light was like, she was sure that's what it would have smelled like as well. She pulled her sleeping mat from the corner and unrolled it onto the floor next to his bunk. From beneath the bed, she pulled an extra blanket and spread it over herself, curling up into a ball and closing her eyes.

**Minor Graft Jobs Here And There**

Meandering down the street, she didn't really pay attention to where she was going. Her blond hair was pulled up into a bun and held by two bamboo chopsticks: Kaylee's doing. Her long brown coat flowed around her legs as she walked. People bustled past her, not really interested in her lazy journey to nowhere. They all had more important things to do. Suddenly she felt her hair drop to her shoulders. She reached up, worried that the chopsticks might have fallen out, and turned to look for them on the ground behind her. Instead, she found a pair of dusty, brown shoes that looked well worn. "Oi fought oi reconnoized you," a voice said. She moved her gaze upward, finding a set of chocolate brown eyes between a stubbly chin and a bowler hat. Her heart skipped a beat, and her hand jumped to her mouth, stopping any more air from entering her lungs. As she stood looking at him, her insides tightened. He held the chopsticks out to her with a sly smile and added a wink. She slowly managed to reach the hand from her mouth to accept them. "What? Ain't ya got anyfin' da say?" he countered playfully. "No 'Ow've ya been?'" Her lungs finally started screaming at her, so she let out her breath and sucked in another one quickly. He cautiously took a step closer to her and slid his arms around her waist. She laid her chin on his shoulder and closed her eyes, pressing herself into his embrace. Brian held her firmly, making no motion to let go until she pulled away; he'd been praying to whatever gods filled the skies that she would find him.

When she finally did pull away, he still didn't relinquish his grasp on her. His hand rested lightly on the small of her back. "I didn't think you'd still be here," she admitted in a whisper.

"I told you I'd stay roight 'ere, didn't oi?" he chuckled. There was almost the hint of tears behind her eyes as his other hand reached up and cradled her face, pulling her into a kiss. She dropped the chopsticks and her hand re-closed around the suspenders across his chest. As they separated, Brian pressed his forehead to hers, letting out a sigh.

"Get a room!" an older woman yelled from across the street, forcing a laugh from them both.

Brian tilted his head to one side. "Come on." Her hand slid into his, and she followed him down the street, turning into an alley and eventually to a door. "It doesn't look loike much, but it's a staht," he explained as he opened the door and led her through. Inside there was a table with four chairs--two filled by dirty-looking men--directly before them, a kitchenette off to one side, and a desk opposite it. "Gents, this is Niamh," he introduced.

"Um," she interrupted. "Actually, one of the things I found on Shadow was m' real name." His eyebrows popped up in surprise. "Saoirse."

His gaze darted back and forth for a second. "Well, d'ya moind if oi stll call ya 'Niamh'?"

"Not at all," she smiled. He nodded, gaining his bearings again.

"Love, this is Jake," he motioned at the man with ruddy brown hair and pale skin, "and this is Coff." The dark-skinned man nodded greetings to her which she returned. Brian pulled out a chair for her to sit down in, and then busied himself at the hot plate on the counter, setting a pot of water on to boil. "You 'ungry at all?" he asked her.

"No, thanks; I've been well taken-care-of," she assured him. Trying to make small talk, she addressed the group, "You boys work together?"

"Yeah," Brian answered. "Jake's the friend I's tellin' ya 'bout when we first met."

"Oh, alright," she nodded. "How's business been then?"

"It's hard," Coff spoke up.

"Not much 'round fah honest men, I'm afraid," Brian added, making his way to the table and handing a hot mug to Saoirse. As she accepted it, he leaned down and dropped a kiss on her lips, making her blush. Her eyes dropped to the mug she cradled. He hadn't meant to embarrass her, but showing that she was attached to him in front of the other two men would ensure their protection of her as well. Pulling out the fourth chair and sitting he asked, "Well ta'en care of by who?"

"M' father, actually."

"You found 'im on Shadow too?"

"No, took me almost a year ta find 'im." She cautiously took a sip of the steamy liquid. "He captains a transport ship."

"Transport, eh? What kinda work does 'e do?" He leaned forward placing his weight on the table.

"Whatever he can get," she shrugged.

"Sounds about right," Coff added. "What's he doin' here?"

"Tryin' ta find a buyer fer the load he's got."

"Well, what is it?" Brian asked. "Maybe we can help."

"We picked up five crates 'a footstools on Pelorum."

"You picked up cargo and didn't have a buyer already set?" Jake asked.

"We did have one when we picked 'em up," she insisted. "When we landed, we found out he died."

"Footstools, ya say?" Brian chewed his lip for a second, thinking.

"Aye."

"Oi moight know a guy. Tell ya dad not ta do anyfin' with 'em yet. Let me make some connections 'n oi moight be able ta help."

"Thank you." Saoirse wasn't looking for help, but she wasn't going to refuse it when it was offered. She wasn't that stupid. She didn't know how Mal would react to the offer, but something told her they were of the same mind about it. Mal needed the money for that cargo; the ship needed refueling, and the crew needed to be paid.

**I Got Pinched**

"I'll be fine, Da," Saoirse assured Mal as she informed him that she wanted to stop at a shop a few blocks down the road while he and Zoë finished the run they were making.

"I don't understand why ya even need ta go," he shot back at her. They weren't staying long on this moon; they couldn't afford to. The town was crawling with Alliance Feds and despite Mal's insistence that she stay on board, Saoirse had too much of Maeve Reynolds in her. There was no man in the 'Verse who could tell her what to do and what not to do, and she kept insisting that she knew how to be careful, that she wouldn't still be alive if it hadn't been ingrained in her.

"There's just a couple 'a loose ends I gotta tie up here that Ma left. If I don't make it back ta the ship ba-fore ya, I'll be there soon." She embraced him and accepted his kiss on her cheek.

She gave Zoë a hug as well. "Be careful, Little One," the woman whispered.

"I will." She turned to head off down the road. Her feet found their way easily back to the old shop with the faded green door. The last time she'd seen it, she had been twelve. This was the last stop her mother had been scheduled to make before she died. But the two of them had never made it. It was a hidden clinic that had been Independent-friendly, and provided medical assistance to those who were denied coverage by the Alliance. Béibhinn had been assigned by her radical group to deliver supplies here, but they were intercepted first and Saoirse had barely gotten away with her life, let alone any of the shop's intended supplies. There would have been no way for her to deliver them on her own anyway.

Cautiously approaching the door, she twisted the knob and pushed at the green-painted wood. It creaked its dissent to being opened. Inside, there were several chairs that lined the walls, all facing toward another door opening out of the fourth wall. No one filled any of the seats, telling her that either the clinic was no longer in operation, or they were fortunate enough not to have any clients needing them today. She ventured in through the other door, moving one step at a time in an attempt to find anyone who might be around. Down a hallway, light streamed in through a window at the other end, but it was clear this place had long been abandoned.

Opening the door at the end of the hall, she found an old storage room. Random supplies still littered the nearly empty shelves, and she began reading the labels. At the very least, if some of this stuff was still good, she could take it back to the ship to stock the infirmary. Picking up a small vial of clear liquid with a blue label, her eyes scanned it. Byphodine. She'd heard about that stuff before. Her mother had once told her it was like magic. It made your body act like it was dead. It was the last of its kind among the selves. Reading the label further, she found that the entire vial was one adult-sized dose. Her muscles tensed as her ears caught the sound of boots stomping around outside the building. More bootfalls echoed on the wooden floor of the hallway. Panic seized her. All these years she'd been on her own, never had she been so careless. "Come out slowly," a voice called from the other side of the door. Her mind swirled trying to come up with a solution, a way for her to get out and back to the Serenity.

Her eyes fell to the vial still in her hand. And without a second thought, she popped off the top and poured it down her throat. She tossed the empty vial through a hole in the wall so that no one would find it, and turned to face the door. Her vision blurred, and it became hard to breathe. There were three swift knocks on the door. "We have you surrounded, come out slowly with your hands where we can see them." Toward the end of the warning, the voice lowered to the point of being demonic. Her legs fell out from underneath her, and the world went black.

**Find Out Who You Truly Are**

Brian's heart sank into his stomach. His body became lead, and he dropped to the chair behind his desk. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Amidst Coff trying to get him to deal with a fairly slimy character, he'd told Brian that Niamh was dead. "So, see?" Coff continued his argument. "You were already gettin' in with thieves 'n ya didn't even know it."

"Get out." Brian's voice was ice." The tall brown-skinned man didn't know how to react. He sat still in shock. "Get out!" the shorter man screamed, standing back up to show he meant business. Coff backed out of the room and closed the door behind him. Brian clenched his teeth and his fists. His limbs began to vibrate with his anger. Pulling the hat from his head, he threw it across the room. It sailed through the air, knocking a picture frame to the ground. He bent over his desk, hanging his head and swallowing hard. A hand ran through his greasy hair, and he sucked in a breath. Letting it out slowly, he retrieved his hat--leaving the picture where it lay--and stared at it for a second.

His feet took him over to the small mirror that hung on the wall, and he gazed into it. His own reflection stared back at him, all the light now gone from his eyes. Lifting the hat and setting it back onto his head, he pulled the brim down. "Theah," he said aloud. "Looks good on ya." His mouth curled up into an almost sinister-looking grin, and he headed out the door into the other room. He had a man to see about smuggling some stolen cargo. He didn't care anymore. Why should he be an honorable man when there was no one to do it for?

**Just A Moment In Time**

Mal and Zoë stood at the entrance to the cargo bay of the ship. Zoë was a sentinel, arms crossed and unmovable. Mal, on the other hand, was the typical nervous father, pacing the floor, tapping his fingers against his leg. He stopped, heaving a sigh out at the city that had swallowed his daughter, his little girl. "Cap'n!" Wash's frantic cry echoed through the cargo bay as he raced halfway down the dangerous metal staircase. "Cap'n, you need to see this." Mal's eyes widened and bolted up the stairs, taking them two and three at a time. Zoë followed closely, as worried about Wash's cryptic message as the captain was.

The moustache on his face wiggled nervously as he hit the button to reveal the wave that had just gone through on the cortex and stepped back. His hand rubbed the back of his neck, and he bit his lip, holding back tears. Zoë's brow wrinkled, and glanced over Mal's shoulder at the screen. Her breath caught in her lungs, and her jaw clenched. Without a word, she turned and hurried out into the hall. She made it down the stairs before she collapsed to her knees. Her mind wouldn't let her believe it was true.

As he stood staring at the screen, Mal's heart exploded in his chest. His organs dissolved and drained from his body. He'd been angry with God when he'd found his home in ashes after the war. But now the mother fucker could mind his own business. As far as Mal was concerned, there was no God. How could an entity that was supposed to be benevolent allow something like this to happen? There was no reason for it, no gain in it.

Breaking news ran across the bottom of the screen in a ticker-tape announcing that a young woman who'd been a governmental threat for the past twelve years had finally been brought to justice. Pictures of the girl's dead body confirmed that the danger had been nutralized. The wave reported that there'd been no need to collect the girl's remains because the Alliance would not pay to give a terrorist a proper funeral of any sort. Her body would rot in the abandoned building. Moving past Mal, Wash grabbed the microphone of the ship's PA system and spoke. "Jayne, Kaylee, please come up to the bridge for a second."

The remaining two crew members entered the doorway, their expressions grave after having passed Zoë in the hall. Wash gestured to the screen with his chin, and together they looked down to the computer in Serenity's main console. Kaylee immediately broke, her hands flying to her mouth, and tears draining from her eyes. Like Zoë, she ran out into the hall, but she continued to the end of the ship and hid behind the engine. None of the crew on this ship were people she could go to for comfort. They were all very private people, who chose to grieve alone . . . if at all. So she would have to grieve alone. She would sleep here in her hammock for a while; she couldn't face the room that they'd shared. Jayne simply turned and went down to his bunk. After a few hyperventillating breaths, a roar erupted from deep within his throat, and he ripped down the curtians that hung around his bed. He threw his pillows and punched his mirror, shattering it into thousands of silver shards. He didn't even feel the pain in his hand as he dropped to the floor, tears finding their way to his eyes despite his maculinity.

"We've gotta go get her," Mal mumbled, eyes still trained on the screen. "Gorrammit, we can't just leave her there."

"Cap'n we gotta go now," Wash responded, his voice full of worry. "If they track her back here, we're humped."

"You think I give a shit?!" Mal's eyes went wild; Wash had never seen him like this before. He wondered if this is what Mal had looked like during the war when he lost a soldier. Out in the hall, Zoë had heard the commotion and found her feet.

"Wash's right, Cap'n. We gotta move."

"Believe me, Mal, nobody wants to go get her more than I do, but we don't have that kind of time." The urgency in his voice still didn't convince Mal of his sincerity.

"We're going back, Wash; that's an order!" Mal bellowed. Zoë grabbed his collar, whipping him off-balance. He stumbled backward, but didn't have enough time to react before she swept his feet out from under him hard, sending him to the ground flat on his back. The blow knocked him unconscious. Not stopping to wait for Zoë's go-ahead, Wash jumped into his seat and hit the initiation switches, pulling the wheel out and lifting them skyward. Apparently the Alliance had done their homework because not four seconds after they were in the air, they had a tail. Flying low, Wash pitched the Serenity up and down and every which-way, ending in a hard burn toward the black.

When he was sure they were safe for the moment, he pulled to a stop, and looked over his shoulder at the man sleeping on his floor. "He'll understand later," Zoë assured him. Wash grimaced and nodded.

**It's What Kept Them Together**

A week later, they were on Persephone. The hype about a firefly-class transport ship that had smuggled Niamh Conner, the terrorist, onto Sheridan had all died down. It was possible, reporters said, that the crew of the ship hadn't even known she was on board. And so things in the 'Verse went back to normal, with the exception of Core planet residents sleeping a little easier at night. Mal followed Badger into the back room to finalize the paperwork on a load he was asking Mal to carry to ThreeHills. Badger had found a man who collected items from corpses awaiting burial and sold them to make money. He figured, whatever the family didn't take was fair game. That person obviously didn't want it anymore. "You undastand," Badger sneered. "Just business."

"Look, Brian . . ."

"Badger," he shot back, the stern look in his eye warning Mal not to ever use that name again.

Mal was slightly taken aback. This was not the young man his daughter had introduced him to a couple weeks prior. "Badger . . . I don't know if I wanna accept the risk of this cargo. Alliance catches me, my whole crew's going away for a very long time to a place that isn't so nice to men's sphincters.

"Well, 'at's the deal. Eithah ya want it oah ya don't." Badger's tone was sharp.

"Look, Badger, we're both honest men," Mal tried to reason. "We both know you don't have to be workin' with guys like these dealin' goods stole off 'a dead bodies." He paused for a minute, looking Badger in the eyes. He didn't know if there was any honor left in him at all. His daughter had fallen for a qingwa cào de liúmáng who was pulling him into a kind of business he wanted no part of. "It kinda hits home for me. Ya know, I just lost my _daughter_, Badger, and this kinda work doesn't seem right to me."

Badger's eyes blazed molten brown. "Oi lost 'er too!" he roared. "You think I don't feew anyfin'? I don't miss 'er?" The color raised in his face, turning it a dark shade of red. "Oi'm jest tryin' ta get by . . . loike ev'ryone ewse." He went quiet, breath rasping in and out through his nose as he calmed himself. Maybe Mal had misjudged him. The boy had obviously cared for Saoirse a good deal more than he realized. As much as he disliked the work Badger now had, he was one of the few things still connecting Mal to her. She was something they had in common, and hopefully it would keep things civil between them. Hopefully, it would keep Badger honest with him. And contracters you could trust were in short supply these days. He'd continue to deal with Badger . . . if only to honor her memory.

When everything was squared away, he headed back to the Serenity. The cargo would be loaded up, and they would take off for ThreeHills in the morning. His long, slow trudge up the ramp ended at Kaylee standing near the doorway. He pulled her into an embrace. He still had one daughter to look after. Glancing upward, he caught Wash and Zoë walking across the metal platform toward the stairway to the bridge. Wash's freshly shaved face almost made him look like a different person. He didn't see Jayne, but odds were that he wouldn't. The burly mercenary had been stuck in his bunk since it happened. He would emerge when ordered to do so, but as long as he didn't need him, Mal wasn't going to force him to be social. He understood. Hell, if he didn't have to lead this crew, he'd be down in his own room shutting out the world. But that wouldn't be right. She wouldn't want him to give up. He knew that much.


End file.
